


What's in a Name?

by Sassaphrass



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: (very minor), Amnesia, Bucky Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Fluff, Gen, Identity Issues, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Recovery, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:38:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1841224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassaphrass/pseuds/Sassaphrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A knife by any other name would stab as sharply. </p><p>James Buchanan Barnes tries to find himself only to discover he may never have been lost to start with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The soldier (what's past is prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the only chapter that deals directly with characters from Agents of SHIELD, however at this point Bucky is still kind of working on the verbal thing and doesn't refer to them by name. 
> 
> Hopefully it makes sense.

He looks at the film strip in the museum. He understands now. The captain looks at his face and sees someone else. The Captain doesn't care about _him_ , the Captain wants James 'Bucky' Buchanan Barnes, his friend, “inseperable on the playground and on the battlefield”. 

 

Bucky is the name of a child. Not a man, not a weapon.

 

He is just a weapon. He is not and never was a child.

 

There were children in Hydra though.

 

There is a memory. There are many memories. But, this one is different. It is neither pain, nor his friend-the one whose name he can't remember.

 

It is a mission. There is a boy, no a man. A boy with the body of a man? His eyes and his hair are dark- black. His skin is pale. He is in the room when the Soldier wakes up and he is there when he is prepared. When the Soldier comes back the man still watches as they put the Soldier back in his box to be used another day.

 

The man looks fascinated and repulsed. He remembers that the boy threw up at one point. Just outside the cell. He hadn't seen but he had heard.

 

He doesn't know why but he wants to find him. The boy with the man's body. The one who had seen, had watched and been afraid.

 

It's surprisingly easy to find out who he is. All the information is on a computer. Grant Ward. Agent for SHIELD. And that sounds right. It was SHIELD who made the Winter Soldier, wasn't it?

 

He wants to know why the man watched. He wants to know why the boy flinched. He wants to know why the boy fled.

 

Grant Ward is listed as a member of a team. So, he tracks the team of Agent P. Coulson, They have a plane but planes must land. The Soldier killed a man on a plane like this once. He knows how to get inside.

 

Grant Ward is not on the plane. Old intelligence. Always annoying. His handlers will be angry at him. Except they're dead. The thought makes him smile, but he doesn't know why.

 

The Soldier is discovered. This is expected. He'd stayed on the plane when it took off because he hoped to find out where the boy had gone, and that was a high risk manoeuvre. Once they detected the intruder it was only a matter of time before they found him.

 

He goes quietly. They don't know what to make of him. His leather and body armour hidden beneath soft fabric, loose folds of ordinary cloth disguising the hard shell. A snail in reverse.

 

They ask him questions. They show him photos, one is of him, the same one from the museum. He ignores them. He just says: 'I'm looking for someone. I thought he'd be here.”

 

They ask more questions. Someone named Steve. No, he doesn't care about the Captain. The Captain reminded him of his friend. The one in the soft memories where things don't hurt. The slight young man with kind eyes.

 

“Grant Ward.” he says at last, finally conjuring the name of the boy-man he is looking for. It had drifted away when they started asking questions.

 

The man in the suit is disappointed. The Soldier is pleased by this. The suit makes him angry. He doesn't understand why though, anymore than he could say why the thought of his handlers dead makes him happy.

 

“Why?” The strong one asks. She's tall, oriental. He admires her. She is a weapon too.

 

“He was there. He failed the test. I want to talk to him.”

 

“What test?”

 

He looks at this woman and this man and he laughs.

 

“Show no mercy.” He replies, trying to make his face mimic the smooth smile the man in the suit has. He hopes being on the receiving end of it is as unsettling for them as it has been for him.

 

They leave him. He walks around the cell. He punches the wall. Nothing. It's a honey comb of octagons. He tries to pry one of them out. The squid has ten tentacles, the octopus eight. Hydra is a snake and an octopus and a skull. Cut off one head...

 

 

They come back and slide a picture across the table to him.

 

He nods. “That's the one.”

 

“He's in custody.”

 

The soldier shrugs. “I want to talk to him.”

 

He stares the strong woman down. She gives the man in the suit a nod. Bucky smiles. He knows it's not a nice smile, but he does it anyway.

 

They link up a screen. The boy appears. He's even less a man now than he was before. More a boy and a weapon.

 

He blanches when he sees the soldier.

 

“You failed the test.” The soldier says. “Why?”

 

“What? Why-” the boy-weapon stutters.

 

“No one else ever did. Why?”

 

“I don't understand what you want!” the boy cries. Stupid child. Why had he wanted so much to speak to this stupid child?

 

“You were there once. Why were you there?!” The soldeier yells standing and slamming both hands down on the table.

 

“It was a test and a threat and a reward!!! Look how strong Hydra could make you! But, if you cause problems they'll take it all away!!! It was something they did sometimes with promising recruits, show them the monster in the basement. Show them exactly what Hydra is capable of.” The boy-weapon screams.

 

The Soldier sits back down. “You failed the test.”

 

“I did. They knew I would.”

 

“They were always cruel that way.”

 

“Yes-” The boy-weapon looks eager now. He thinks the soldier cares, the soldier understands. The soldier knocks the screen over and smashes it against the wall. The soldier may understand but he most definitely does not care. The boy-weapon can rot now, he's outlived the soldier's use for him

 

The strong woman looks impressed. He stares at her blankly until she looks away. Then he goes back to looking at the wall.

 

Octagons. Wait, no, six sides. Hexagon. Some part of him is whispering that's wrong. Triangles are the strong shape, though a hexagon could be composed of triangles so maybe...

 

The man in the suit tries to sidle into his vision. The soldier glares at him.

 

“It's a vibranium alloy. Practically unbreakable.”

 

He looks at the man blankly. “Like the Captain's shield.” he says.

 

The man grins widely, excited for some reason. The soldier frowns and steps back. Men in suits being excited is never good. The man chatters at him but he goes blank. Staring at the wall. Show no weakness. Show no mercy. Show nothing. Be nothing.

 

Eventually the man in the suit goes away disappointed.

 

He manages to pry one of the metal octagons out of it's frame by the time they land, but otherwise makes no objections. It is not the first time the Winter Soldier has changed hands and as far as the Asset is concerned 'finders-keepers' is as valid a reason for following orders as any.

 

 

When they land they put him to sleep. Only without the ice. Which is new. He thinks. Wait, no, that's not new, it's just the first time it's happened in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a fic where Bucky met up with Grant. I then realized that Bucky as I imagine him to be would have no patience for Grant's bullshit. Also, imagine knowing that the people you worked for had the ability to make anyone into a mindless weapon? That would freak you out man. 
> 
> The next chapter is the bulk of the story and deals with Bucky interacting with Steve and Natasha as he tries to construct a new sense of identity.
> 
> I didn't capitalize the S is soldier because I thought that made it too much like a name, and I wanted Bucky to still lack a sense of self at this point.


	2. Yasha (deny thy father and renounce thy name)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a prisoner of S,H.I.E.L.D. turns out to not be so bad. 
> 
> Natasha makes a friend and James Barnes comes to a realisation.

When he wakes up his left arm is gone. That's only happened one other time and it was before he had the metal arm in the first place. That memory hurts to think about. Most memories do.

 

The new place is different from anywhere he remembers being. Everything is soft light, soft surfaces, and pastels. There isn't a chair or wires, just a mattress on the floor, and some big fluffy pillows. No blankets. He wonders if they think he'll hang himself. They must, since they checked his mouth for cyanide capsules when he arrived.

 

There are no orders. There's food though. It's nice, even if they took away his body armour, and his boots (and those had been very good boots). Also, being without a metal arm means he tends to tilt to right a lot. But, still it is nice.

 

People come and visit him. They remind him of the old man, who was once a handsome young man. The one who liked to slap him if he made a mistake, and taunt him if he hadn't. The one who used to talk to him a lot.

 

They talk to him too, the same way the old man did. He was the only one who ever talked to him like that, like he was a friend. He's not sure, but he thinks that man was the worst because of the lie. He was never a friend, because there was a kind word and then a backhand slap. An offer of food and an electric shock.

 

There's a lady who comes who calls him Yasha. He thinks he likes her. She speaks softly in Russian, and she teases him gently but there is steel in her eyes. Yasha thinks he recognizes something in her. He thinks he remembers that long ago he had comrades like her, fellow weapons who served the world as he did- as he does.

Yasha doesn't care much but he thinks where he is now is better than where he was before. He likes his new name. It is playful, and kind. A name for something precious or useful without being a name for something weak. He likes that she's given him a new name.

 

The Captain comes to visit too. He doesn't use the new name, he calls Yasha “Bucky”. Yasha doesn't like his visits. He knows that English was first, he knows it, but somehow the words come easier in Russian, and there's something about the Captain. Something that feels like a knife to the back of the skull. That and he... looks like Yasha's friend. The one he can barely remember some days and on others seems like the only thing that was ever real, but Yasha's friend was small and gentle and the Captain is neither.

 

The Captain isn't like the red-haired weapon, Natasha, Yahsa calls her Little Spider sometimes or just Red, who looks at him calmly and speaks to him reasonably. He looks at Yasha like he wants something, like Yasha has done something wrong and needs to fix it. Like Yasha has hurt the Captain somehow.. 

 

It makes Yasha angry. He _failed_ his mission so the Captain might live. He didn't just _not kill_ the Captain but he _saved_ him when the man would have drowned. It's not fair that the Captain looks at him like that when Yasha saved him. The Captain shouldn't ask for more, Yasha hasn't got any more. 

 

He knew the Captain, he knows from the museum. He fought with him. Yasha remembers a bits of when he fought with the Captain during a war, and the fact that he is  _hurting_ the man somehow is upsetting. It's possible the good Captain even knew him before Yasha started fighting. 

 

But, why does that matter? It was more than a lifetime ago. And  _Yasha can't remember it._

_So,_ he doesn't like when the Captain visits. They are his second least favourite (he knows because Little Spider asks him to list what he likes in order of how much he likes it), after when the men come with pictures and questions about things Yasha cannot remember or can hardly remember or can only remember in pieces, but before the doctors. Natasha's visits are, of course, his favourite. 

 

Actually, Natasha's visits are his favourite anything. If he had to trade a meal to keep her coming to visit he would. She's beautiful and there's something in her eyes that seems more a reflection of himself than any of the old pictures they show him of a man with his face.

Sometimes they play games, though Yasha rarely pays attention to them and when he does he realizes that they are both trying to let the other win.

 

Little Spider comes to visit one day. Yasha finds himself smiling at her when she comes in. The Captain had been by again earlier and seeing her is like cool water on a burn: a relief.

 

She's brought cards today. They play Go Fish, which is silly since playing cards can be a somewhat involved process with only one hand. A lot of picking things up and putting things down, all while trying not to let the opponent see what cards he has.

 

“I don't know that I've seen you smile before”. She says softly as she deals out their hands.

 

Yasha just looks at her blankly and asks for sevens. She gestures to the pile. He picks up.

 

“You don't smile when Steve visits.” she continues.

 

“I like you better than Steve.” he answers.

 

“You've known Steve longer. Any Kings?” she counters.

 

“Go Fish. I spent more years with Alexander Pierce than either of you. I never liked him much either, Little Spider.” he tries to joke.

 

Natasha sets her cards down and looks at him very seriously. “Does Steve make you feel like that?”

 

Yasha shrugs. “Any 3's?” he asks, already reaching for the pile.

 

Natasha reaches across and grabs his hand. She holds it firmly, but not so hard he doesn't know he that he could get free if he wanted.

 

“Yasha, look at me.” He obeys. He always obeys.

 

“If Captain Rogers frightens you then-”

 

“He doesn't frighten me. It's just...I don't know what he wants, I don't know how to do what he wants. He's upset with me and there's no way to please him.”

 

“Why do you think he's upset with you?” She asks. She's still holding his hand and she looks worried.

 

“He hasn't done anything Little Spider, do not fear.” Yasha tries to reassure her. The Captain probably commands her too.

 

“That's not what I asked Yasha.”

 

“He makes this face. I don't like it, and he lies. Always lying.” Yasha shakes his head.

 

“What lies?” Natasha asks, still very serious.

 

“Everything. The same sort of lies Pierce told. With his eyes and his smiles and 'everything will be alright'” Yasha shakes his head. “I've had enough lies.”

 

“Would you rather he come and act naturally, even if it meant he was unhappy?” she asks.

 

“He's a Captain, I'm a soldier. I don't make suggestions.”

 

“But hypothetically Yasha...”

 

He sighs. Why won't she let this go?

 

“Yes, hypothetically, sure that might be better. It would also,  _ hypothetically,  _ be better if I knew he was safe and happy and never had to see him again. Or you know, if he'd call me Yasha instead of Bucky. But,” he waves his hand “I'm an asset, he is a commander. He will do as he wishes and I will do as I'm told and not complain or question.”

 

Natasha is frowning at him now, and looks very angry. Then she nods, lets go of his arm, and stands up.

 

“I'm afraid, I must leave our game, Yasha.” she all but barks.

 

Yasha stares up at her, trying to keep the fear from showing on his face. It was a test. It was a test and he has failed. He has complained and criticized and now they will hurt him.

 

He nods. She smiles at him, one of her forced closed lipped ones, and leaves.

 

Yasha stays sitting on the ground. Why had he trusted her? What had he been thinking? He knows. He knows better than that. Why would he-

 

She's left the cards behind. He carefully gathers them up. He goes and puts them by the door, very carefully arranged into a neat stack. It takes longer with one hand but it is important to show he doesn't intend to make trouble.

 

It's only when he goes to sit on his bed that he realizes he is crying and judging by the dampness on his collar, he has been for some time.

 

The lights are on still but Yasha decides to lie down anyway. Now that he has failed the test they will probably put him away again. You do not continue to use weapons that have proved themselves faulty. You put them away until they can be fixed (or you dispose of them).

 

He sighs. He has so enjoyed being Yasha. It feels safer somehow, than after he'd left the museum and decided to go looking for the boy who'd thrown up. He'd much rather be Yasha than the sad worn ghost of James Buchanan Barnes.

 

The next day the men in suits come again. Yasha is ready for it. He is braced for blows and for pain. He won't resist. Resisting only makes it worse.

 

Instead it's more of the same. More questions about what he'd done. More pictures to show him to see if he recognized any faces.

 

They don't stay long.

 

He waits all day for the axe to drop. To be dragged out of this soft safe room and back to the chair and the pain and the cold.

 

He remembers a lot these days. More than he did before. More than he'd like to if he's honest (and he's only fully honest with himself or if someone asks specific questions and orders him to be honest), because what he remembers, most of it, is pain and violence and rage rage rage.

 

Natasha comes the next morning. She has a new game. Darts only they're not sharp and instead get caught between little bits of plastic that stick out. Both Natasha and him are so good at it that it's a bit boring, still, it's better than Go Fish.

 

He finds himself glancing at Natasha out of the corner of his eye. He's tense. She tricked him. He thought she was like him. It was stupid but he did.

 

She's pulling the darts out of the board when she catches him looking. He glances away.

 

“Something's different today.” She says it the way she starts any conversation: Dryly, without emotion.

 

“Did you tell them?” he finally chokes out, staring at the floor.

 

“Tell them what?” She says. He knows without looking up that she's moved closer.

 

“What I said.” he whispers.

 

“Tell who?” she asks softly.

 

He swallows but doesn't look up. He thought she was another weapon and maybe she had been. But she was just a better liar that that old man (Alexander Pierce, names are important Litt-Natasha had said) had been. The same. Just a better liar.

 

“Tell who?” she repeats. She takes a step towards him. He steps back instinctively and then flinches when he realizes what he's done. He tentatively steps back to where he was and braces for the blow.

 

It doesn't come

 

She's looking at him the way Captain America looks at him. He hates that look. He punches her in the face and screams at her to leave. She scrambles out and away with blood running from her nose. Poor Little Spider. He sat down beside her and frightened her away...wait not that's not how it goes...

 

He spends the rest of the day pacing the room. The images, the memories are flickering across his vision. He's lost the control he normally has of them. One minute he's in Belarus with his fellow weapons on a training assignment, the next he's in the room with the chair and they're trying to put him back but he won't do that again, he won't.    


` Then he's fighting the Captain, but the Captain won't fight back and he's saying things. He's saying things Bucky said to his friend in the memories long ago when things didn't _hurt_  . And it hurts. It hurts worse than the chair, worse than a bullet. He wants to tear the Captain apart. He wants to tear himself apart.

 

He wonders if the Captain is like him: fulfil the mission and ignore the bits that aren't part of it, like when Mr. Pierce had to kill the housekeeper. Maybe his mission was to get the chip from the machine and once that was complete he had no orders to continue fighting and that was why he stopped.

 

They did something like that to him once, he thinks. It was a test (it's always a test). He was ordered to move a package from one end of the facility to the other without being hurt, stopped, or captured. Once that was completed he was to stand down and await further instructions. They beat him to see if he would break that last order. He didn't. 

 

He is angry now. He is so angry. He walks around the room.  
  


They'll take everything away. Not just the room, the cards, and Natashenka's visits. But the memories: the blood-drenched memories of all the people he killed and things he did and the places he went, the searing painful ones of the times he screamed and the things they did, and the soft ones too of his friend looking annoyed at him in the afternoon sun, the day he tasted ice cream for the first time, the girls with their stiff hair and red lips who smiled at him.

 

Those are his. All of them. The blood and the gore. The good and the bad: it's all him. Bucky, Yasha, The Soldier, the Asset. They're just names, and names are just words to keep everyone from getting too confused. Even if they're all names other people gave him, they're still just other words for who he is. He lived through it. That makes them his.

 

The Captain doesn't understand. The Captain says he didn't have a choice. He's wrong there's always been a choice even if it wasn't a very good one.

 

There's a reason Alexander Pierce used to give those stupid speeches.

 

He had always had a choice: Death or Life. Save himself or fight. His friend would have fought. His friend is like Steve Rogers because he wouldn't have seen a choice either.

 

For Steve Rogers there was no choice but to survive. For the friend Bucky can only sometimes remember there would have been no choice but to fight. He would have made them kill him by the end of the first decade or done it himself.

 

It's taken 70 years but James Buchanan Barnes finally understands what the pipsqueak was always saying about bullies: If you start running you'll never stop.

 

Time to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the subtitle of this chapter and fic are quotes from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet which taken out of context relate to the themes of identity that I'm playing with here. 
> 
> Yash is a dimuniative of Yakov which is the Russian version of the name James. I haven't read the comics but I do know that in them Natasha knew Bucky as the Red Room Operative known as 'The American', 'Yakov' or 'Yasha'. Her calling him that in this fic is meant to be a nod to that. 
> 
> I've read some meta that has pointed out the problematic nature of denying an amputee his prosthetic. However, I just cannot picture S.H.I.E.L.D (even the smaller kinder version of it run by Phil Coulson) allowing a mentally unstable, tactically brilliant, master assassin to have a bionic super-strength arm. Taking it away from him is meant to be a kind of douche move, but The Winter Soldier is a very valuable intelligence asset and S.H.I.E.L.D . really doesn't want Bucky to escape or seriously hurt himself. So, in this situation they are putting his physical well-being ahead of his mental health.


	3. Bucky (That name which is no part of thee)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is forced to admit that he does in fact have feelings. Natasha helps him explore his past, while Steve prompts him to consider his future. 
> 
> But what's really important is that he rediscovers that crazy little thing called 'fun'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselfs lads. This one's a doozy.

The next time they come in with files and names and questions. Bucky doesn't answer. He stares at the wall and dares them. He fucking  _dares_ them to make him talk. To show their true colours. 

 

Natasha comes later, after they've left.

 

She deals the cards for Go Fish. He doesn't like Go Fish, it's a boring game. He doesn't pick up his cards.

 

“Why do we play this game Natalia? Surely it's as dull for you as it is for me.”

 

“Natalia? Aren't we formal today, Yasha.” She says without looking up from her cards.

 

“Oh stop the games. I so tired of your lies.”

 

She pauses and seems to consider him for a moment. "You're angry at me." she says.

 

He goes to cross his arms but then realizes the gesture looks a bit odd with just one and settles for glaring.

 

She pauses and for the first time she seems a bit uncertain. “I thought when you punched me it was because you had a flashback.”

 

“No. I punched you because I was angry at you.”

 

She raises one perfect eyebrow. “That's not very nice Yakov.”

 

He sneers at her. “Nice? I have never been nice Natalia.” He knows this the way he knows the best way to kill a man bare handed.

 

She sighs and puts down the cards. “Well, do you want to play something else?”

 

He knows she won't talk about anything important, so he sighs and stares at the wall.

 

“Do you know how to play cribbage?” he asks finally, pulling the name from somewhere he doesn't recognize as his own mind.

 

“No, I'm afraid not.”

 

“Poker?” Another word for another skill he knows but has no memory of using.

 

“Sure, what will we bet with?”

 

Yasha shrugs, and takes the deck from her. He can't shufflye one-handed so he just deals.

 

She is a good player. She has no tells, but she plays conservatively. She beats him but he doesn't think he let her win. Yasha decides to count it as progress.

 

Despite everything nothing really changes in James' life. He still looks forward to Natasha's visits. He still calls her Little Spider and smiles at her when she calls him Yasha. He still likes the name Yasha.

 

His life is confined to four walls and the men and women who come in and out. The doctors finally give him a new arm. This one is light, and works almost as well as the old one, though it is very weak and, except for the ridge of metal where it meets his shoulder, might be mistaken for a real arm.

 

He starts answering the questions again out of boredom, though he's decided to never let a doctor within ten feet of him again, which has led to some entertaining chases around his room as the lab coats try and corral him.

It's funny (when had the last time something been funny? Had it been when he'd laughed next to Captain America in that video?). He imagines doing it with that awful little toad with the glasses but decides if he'd ever had the chance he wouldn't have bothered with keep away he'd have killed that little shit (Short, Swiss Accent, Dr. Zola. Names are important Natalia says).

 

It's been nearly 2 weeks since the Captain visited and Bucky hasn't heard anything about him (but if something had happened why would they tell him? He'd had to pick bits of the man's flesh out of his metal fist, even after a swim in the river ).

 

He finds himself staring at the door a lot. Steve Rogers was a friend of his once. Even if those memories haven't ever really returned. And now he is afraid with the same inexplicable intensity that had sent him diving from a crashing ship to save a man he'd just tried to kill.

 

Perhaps someone else has killed the Captain? Perhaps he no longer cares to try and rekindle their old friendship. Perhaps he is tired of seeing a stranger wearing a much loved face.

 

Natasha calls him out his relentless door staring on one of her visits.

 

“Expecting someone Yasha?”

 

“No, just...I'm tired of this room.” he lies. 

 

“I would think given your past accommodation you'd have nothing to complain about here.” Little Spider is the only person who would ever dare joke about such things. Yasha admires that in her.

 

“It's not that your face isn't lovely Natasha, just that I wish I had someone to talk to who didn't ask me to identify possible sleeper agents or poke me with needles.”

 

“You need to stop messing with the doctors Yasha” she admonishes lightly.

 

“ _They_ need to stop poking me with needles.”

 

Natasha raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow at him. He meets her gaze blankly.

 

She cracks first and shrugs. “Maybe we'll let you become free range in a few more weeks. Though, your recent behaviour has made the higher ups wary about putting you on too long of a leash.”

 

Yasha glares at her. “Leashes are for dogs, Spider.” he growls.

 

She doesn't look sorry. He considers throwing the plastic dart board at her head, but doesn't.

 

 

She must read his mind though because she purses her lips and frowns at him. “You've been more volatile since Steve stopped visiting.”

 

James pretends that he doesn't feel the sharp spike of fear just thinking of the Captain's long absence. He looks away from her and tries to make himself not care that the Captain has been gone so long.

 

It used to be so easy. He remembers not caring no matter what they did. He remembers meekly accepting the mouth guard, the slaps, the terrible chair and the worse machine. He didn't blink when Alexander Pierce shot the woman because he really hadn't cared at all.

 

There's a soft touch on his shoulder. The real one. He blinks and Natasha is looking at him with curiosity and a tiny bit of worry.  
  


“Why did he stop coming?” Bucky croaks.

 

Natasha looks confused. “You said you didn't want him to visit anymore.”

 

Bucky frowns. “I don't think so.” He shakes his head. “You misunderstood me Natashenka.”

 

She looks at him. It is almost, but not quite, the expression that made him punch her that one time. He glares at her and jerks his head towards the door. She takes the hint and leaves. She's learned the hard way that it's dangerous to crowd him when he needs space.

 

The Captain comes the next day. James ought to be pleased to see the good Captain looking well after the weeks of worry and fear; instead he feels hollow and he remembers why he hadn't liked the Captains visits in the first place.

 

With everyone else James feels he is a person, complete, if damaged. The gaps in his memories do not bother him. The hard choices he had to make do not weigh on him. The memories of the slight young man with the kind face do not haunt him.

 

When Steve Rogers visits all those things seem to oppress him. They crush him beneath the weight of what he was and is and doesn't remember being.

 

The Captain lifts a hand and smiles sheepishly, hovering near the door. “Hey.”

 

Bucky stares at him and nods.

 

Steve stands there, in civilian clothes, hands in his pockets looking awkward and unsure.

 

Bucky supposes that's understandable. He still doesn't have furniture, and grown men aren't used to sitting on the floor.

 

“I heard you wanted to see me?” Steve asks.

 

Bucky frowns. No matter what happens no one is actually going to listen to him when he speaks are they? “I wanted to know why you stopped visiting.”

 

Steve looks sad again. “You wanted me to stop.”

 

“No! I wanted you to stop lying and making that face-” he points a finger at Steve as his face falls “that one! That face there! And-” Bucky pulls at his hair. They've let him keep it long even though there's not longer a purpose to it. “You confuse me and it hurts sometimes when you're here but then you stopped being here and I worried you'd died.”

 

Steve slides down the wall to sit across from Bucky but not too close to him. Bucky appreciates that. Captain America could probably break him like a twig and he still sometimes expects violence from the people around him.

 

“I didn't die.” Steve states, as though his presence alone might not clarify the matter.

 

Bucky shrugs. “Good.” he says and stares at the wall.

 

Steve shifts and looks at him sadly. Bucky pretends to ignore it.

 

“Do you even remember me?” Steve finally asks. It's the question Bucky has been dreading. 

 

He blinks and tries to find the right answer. He knows that it is important that he seem to remember Steve. He knows from the way Natasha doesn't ask, the way the men in suits ask questions about the war they fought together, and from the way that Steve was going to allow himself to be beaten to death:

 

It is _very_ important that Bucky Barnes remember he was once best friends with Steve Rogers.

 

But he doesn't remember that. He knows. He knows from the way Steve acts around him and the way that people give each other meaningful looks whenever the two of them are in the same room together. He knows because he saw the pictures in the museum and the film strip. He _knows_ but that doesn't mean he _remembers_.

The man who was once the Winter Soldier doesn't remember ever having friends. He remember colleagues, other weapons, handlers, targets and acceptable collateral damage.

 

Sometimes he does remember Captain America acting as his commander, but it always seemed to have been in dark forests or on long terrible marches.

 

He doesn't remember Steve Rogers at all before the Helicarrier, though.

 

In all the long fractured years of memories Yasha only remembers one person who might have been a friend but just as likely was a brother or a mission who's objective was protection and not death. The boy was small and slight with an unsure expression on his face and kindness in his eyes (even when he was trying to punch Yasha). These memories are wisps though with nothing tangible and concret to attach to them-unlike the ops as the Winter Soldier where he can rattle off dates and times and objectives, or even earlier in war when  he can say to himself :the Captain and I were retreating with our unit after the successful completion of the mission, where, even if the names and faces of their comrades are gone, the nature of the mission is crystal clear in his recollection.

 

But, for the earliest memories, the ones of his friend. He can't remember anything like that. He'll have the image of the boy smiling or laughing or bloody and he won't be able to remember _why_  or _how_ _._ There are lots of things like that from those early memories. He'll remember a date with ginger hair who was self conscious about her freckles, he'll remember she was the best at dancing of any of his dates and that she hated the taste of cherry syrup. He remembers that he considered marrying that girl but that she threw him over for a dark eyed Italian with dimples.

He can't remember her name or her face though, or what cherries taste like or what the music they danced to sounded like or if he spent one night with her or a year. He can't remember if he was heartbroken when she left him, or whether he thought it was funny. Just the facts, not the things that make these facts into something real that happened to someone who was real.

 

He remembers what the first ice cream he ever tasted was (plain vanilla but with sprinkles), but he doesn't know where or when he bought it or if he ate it alone or shared it with a friend or a girl or his mother. He can't remember if he ever ate ice cream again or if that was the only time.

 

When he sits and plays cards with Natasha these things do not seem a lack, his mind is on the present not the past, but sitting looking at Steve Rogers, who looks so sad to see him, they seem like gaping wounds he desperately wishes would heal. 

“I remember I was in a war with you. You were my commander.” He finally answers the question.

 

Steve nods and looks, if possible, even more grieved. It is not the answer Steve was hoping for- Bucky can tell.

 

“I don't remember much before that little ratty doctor with the glasses, and even after then there are big gaps....” Bucky tries to explain.

 

Steve nods again.

 

“Did I know you before the war?” Bucky asks, because he honestly isn't sure.

 

Steve nods. He looks like he's going to cry. It makes Bucky squirm. He moans and tugs at his hair again.

 

“No! Don't- Don't do that! Please?” he sqwawks. Bucky has no reference for tears that are not his own and even then he's usually so surprised by them that he just sits in shock until they go away. He knows there are things you are supposed to do when someone cries but he can't remember what they are.

 

Steve swipes a hand across his eyes and tries to say something that might have been “Natasha” but his voice breaks on the first syllable and Bucky's not too sure.

 

Bucky waits as Steve takes a few deep breathes and then tries again. “Nat told me you didn't like when I put on a brave face. That the falseness felt like lies.”

 

Bucky had forgotten that he'd said that. It's true. He remembers those early days of forced smiles and false cheerfulness with a shudder. It was too much like the earnest speeches Pierce used to give about changing the world.

 

He nods. “That's true.” he admits.

 

Steve chokes out a bitter laugh, still scrubbing at his face. “Well it's that or blubering like a moron, so pick your poison punk.”

 

Steve isn't actually crying but his face has gotten all red in a way that Bucky recognizes as being how Steve always looks when things are awful but he's not trying to be brave, even if he is trying not to cry.

 

Bucky sits up with a start. He has never seen the Captain cry or try not to cry. He knows this in the same way he knows how to speak Russian. There's no memory of learning it just the truth of it sitting awkwardly in his brain: he knows what Steve looks like when he's trying not to cry but he has never seen Captain America cry.

 

He frowns at Steve.

 

“Did we know each other? Before the war?” he repeats, because now he needs to know.

 

Steve takes a deep breath and nods.

 

Bucky stares at him. It's like there's a puzzle and all the pieces are there but James just can't fit them together.

 

James swallows and looks away. “Do you remember a girl with orange hair who hated cherry syrup and was the best dancer?” he asks suddenly, desperately trying to find a subject that will keep Steve from _actually_ crying.

 

Steve frowns, obviously confused by the sudden turn this conversation has taken. He blinks once and hoarsely asks: “Why do you want to know?”

 

James licks his lips suddenly uncomfortable. He doesn't talk about the things he doesn't quite remember with Natasha it's always about the games they're playing, idle chitchat, and possible upgrades in his accomodations. The men in suits, meanwhile, only deal in certainties “Do you or do you not remember this man?” That sort of thing.

 

The fractured faded pieces of the life that James had before he went to war have been his own private wounds until now.

 

“It's just... I think I loved her, but I can't remember her name.” Admitting it makes it real, and now it's Bucky who might cry.

 

Steve looks stunned. “Bridgitte O'Shaunassey, fresh from Ireland and a real firecracker.” He says. “I- I never knew you loved her.”

 

Bucky shrugs, embarrassed. “She didn't love me did she? Why would I tell you I loved some dame who didn't want me in the end?”

 

Steve is staring at him as though he's grown an extra head or something. He laughs, a real one this time. “You know, I thought I knew everything about you. Then, you come back and you don't want me to visit and I think they've forced this distance between us, but, there's lots I don't know that has nothing to do with what happened to you, isn't there?”

 

Bucky shrugs, uncomfortable again. Steve is clearly having a moment but everything is kind of going over Bucky's head here. However his distraction ploy has been a success, which gives him a certain satisfaction.

 

Steve smiles a little uncertainly and suddenly he looks just like the hazy recollections that Bucky has of a little guy who could throw a surprisingly good punch.

 

“Did you have a little brother?” he asks without thinking. Maybe that is the how the pieces fit together.

 

Steve shakes his head slowly. “No, it was just us.”

 

“But...I remember...” Bucky trails off and shakes his head. He remembers but snippets that don't fit together in a way that makes sense. He doesn't know who or what he remembers. Some kid with an unsure smile that could be anyone. It doesn't necessarily _mean_ something. 

 

Steve tilts his head and then his mouth drops open in shock. “You do know that I wasn't always like this right?” He gestures to overly developed muscles of his torso.

 

Bucky stares at Captain America's pectoral muscles. They are very impressive, though he can't help but wonder how they relate to the current conversation.

 

“I used to be really little. Skinny, asthmatic, the works. I was also about a foot and a half shorter. I used to have to look up to you.” Steve explains with a wry grin. “But, I agreed to be a part of an experiment and they made me into the ravishing creature that you see before you.” The last bit is Bucky thinks, meant to be funny.

 

Bucky is really absolutely certain that it's not funny.

 

He thinks he feels his brain short circuit. His mouth goes dry. There's too much in that sentence. He agreed to let them... Bucky can't even process it, suddenly overwhelmed with the memory of being strapped down, of begging for them to stop, please, don't, I'll do anything you want, just STOP.

 

He curls in on himself and covers his face with his hands. “Please go.” he says in a small voice, because he doesn't want Steve to see him like this. 

“Bucky...” He hears Steve say and he knows that he is reaching for him, so he jerks away from the outstretched hand without looking. He doesn't uncurl or uncover his face.

 

“Just go, Steve. Please.” he says without uncovering his face. He hears Steve gulp, stand and walk out.

 

He peaks out from behind his fingers to make sure he's really gone and then crawls over to his mattress and collapses face down.

 

The kid with the kind eyes is Captain America. Is Steve Rogers. Is who Steve Rogers was. Until. Until. Until Steve Rogers let them make him into someone new. He let them. He let them. He volunteered. He volunteered.

 

Bucky hadn't fucking _volunteered_. Bucky had begged for them to stop. To let him go. But, Steve had volunteered. How can he trust a man who would _ask_ to be turned into a weapon, when Bucky would have given anything to have been allowed to remain a man. 

 

When Natasha comes to visit the next day Bucky doesn't bother getting ready for her visit. Usually he puts on clean clothes, tidies his hair a bit and brushes his teeth. Today he doesn't want to get out of bed. So he doesn't.

 

Natasha sits down next to him on the mattress. She gently leans over and strokes his hair.

 

“What is is Yasha?” she asks softly in Russian.

 

He thinks about lying, but there's something that makes him think she'll understand.

“I remember Steve from before he became what he is now. They remade him into something they thought was better and Steve agreed to let them.. But, Steve was already the best there ever was...Why didn't he see that? How could he have thought that being a weapon...a _monster_ was better.” He may not remember much of those days but he knows that is true, the same way he knows how to strip and reassemble an AK-47. The little guy who Steve had been was _good_ in a way the world couldn't understand. "Why would he have willingly agreed to something they had to force on us?"

 

Natasha makes a sad noise in her throat and lies down next to him, still stroking his hair. There's something comforting and familiar about having a sympathetic and beautiful woman in bed with him. His mind returns to Bridgitte's orange hair, so different from the dark red that Natasha has. He still can't remember the girl's face.

 

He moves closer so that his forehead is just touching her shoulder. She's so small and so fierce. He realizes that he loves her, maybe as he once loved Bridgitte but more like he once loved...Steve, when he was small and kind and shone so brightly.

Yasha loves Natashenka.

It is surprisingly easy to accept once he realizes it. Love is for children, it is a weakness, but it seems these days that Yasha is only made of weaknesses.

 

Steve had happily gone under the knife to get rid of his weaknesses and Bucky having remembered this finds he cannot hate his own weaknesses now, since he doesn't know if he can ever forgive Steve for getting rid of his.

 

It's not fair. None of it is even the tiniest bit fair.

 

He tells Natasha these things. Whispers them in the language he didn't learn first but knows best. He tells her about Steve, before, when he was small and his friend, and after when he was big and his commander. He confesses that he can't remember what the music he once danced to sounds like or the faces of any of the girls he once claimed to love, or what cherries taste like. That in all those long years before he woke up on Zola's table there is only a handful of moments that he can truly say he remembers.

 

He tells her he remembers ice cream though and that makes her smile in such a way that her eyes crinkle in the corners.

 

She leaves early but comes back the later with a bag of presents.

 

One is a little rectangle that you plug in and it plays music. The song that comes out of the little speakers is one that Bucky didn't remember until it started to play.

 

The other two are a small carton of ice cream and a little box of cherries.

“They're out of season” Natasha tells him with a wry smile. “So, I'm not sure how good they'll be.”

 

But Yasha finds he's smiling at her without thinking about it. They share the ice cream and if it is good, than the cherries are _bliss_. He eats the entire little box and doesn't share at all, grinning like a child as he spits the pits out.

 

He knows that he had been happy, like this, before; but this is the first time he remembers feeling it.

 

Once he's finished eating he turns up the volume on the music and starts looking for a song he knows (he didn't even know he could have a song he knew before today). Then he grabs darling Natashenka's hands and he tries to teach her how to jitterbug.

 

She is a good student- she's been a dancer before, she confesses quietly. He smiles and leans in close before hissing “Me too!” and chuckling at her surprise. He used to go dancing every weekend and all the pretty girls wanted him for their partner.

 

The room is too small for flashy moves, but it's still...fun. It's fun to move for joy and not for death. It's fun to remember that though he was always sure footed and confident he didn't always use that talent to kill. It's fun to remember how to smile.

 

Natasha kisses his cheek before she leaves and he asks her to tell Steve to come back tomorrow, because he's calmed down enough to face him. He can accept even if he will never understand.

She tells him that she's going to tell the scientists and the men in suits to move him to a bigger room, one with real furniture and enough space that they can really dance.

 

Bucky gets ready for Steve's visit the next day. He doesn't have a mirror but he brushes his hair until he is sure it must look alright, he puts on fresh clothes and he carefully cleans up the room, so that the bed is neat, the soft darts are all stuck in a careful row in the board, the cards are carefully piled and the books and music player are tidily tucked next to the wall.

 

He's nervous. He doesn't want Steve thinking he's some basket case, though given all the instances of simultaneous screaming, crying and violence that Steve's witnessed Bucky perform it's probably too late on that front.

 

He stands facing the door wringing his hands until Steve appears and he snaps to attention without realizing it.

Steve looks disappointed at that. “Bucky, don't.” he sighs.

 

“I want to apologize, about yesterday.” Bucky begins.

 

Steve stares at the ground and scuffs his foot back and forth. “You don't have to apologize for that Bucky.” he mumbles.

 

“Well, I want to.”

 

Steve nods miserably.

 

Bucky sighs. He has things that needs saying but he doesn't know how to say them and if Steve keeps looking so sad he's not sure how he ever will.

 

He tries clearing his throat. Steve waits patiently for him to find his voice.

 

“I hate that you wanted to change who you were. I don't remember a lot but I remember that I thought you were pretty great. It scares me that you agreed to be an experiment because they experimented on me when I really really didn't agree to it and I always have thought the results horrific. I worry about you when you're not here though. You're the only friend I ever remember having, but I don't even remember being friends with you.”

 

Steve stares at him, mouth hanging slightly open. Apparently this speech has come as a surprise to him.

 

Bucky tries again, because he _needs_ Steve to understand this. “You were willing to die on the off chance that it might help me, though, and that seems like the sort of guy I want to be friends with.”

 

Steve closes his mouth and nods again.

 

“So, I think you should visit me, as much as you want. Natasha says they're going to move me somewhere more like a real room soon and I've decided I want you around.” Bucky concludes, a bit proud of himself for managing to make all of his points clearly and sanely. He didn't cry or scream or punch anyone. Success tastes sweet (but not as sweet as ice cream).

 

Steve still hasn't said anything.

 

Bucky gestures helplessly the dart board.

 

“Do you want to play darts?” he asks, desperate for Steve to stop staring at him in shock and respond to what he's saying. He spent a long time working out what he needed to say, now that he's said it he doesn't know what to do.

 

Steve does that thing again where he looks like he might cry. Bucky doesn't mind it so much this time.

 

Then Steve smiles. The big, full, real one- even though he's blinking back tears. “I'd like that.” he finally manages to say.

 

Bucky tells himself that this is just like spitting cherry pits or dancing. Just because he doesn't remember all of it doesn't mean he can't still do it if he tries. Doesn't mean he can't make new memories to replace the ones they took away.

He wins the first round but he's pretty sure Steve let him win. He sighs. Bucky guesses they'll just have to work on that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know there was some pretty heavy stuff in this chapter. Lots of sadness and some pretty intense angst. But, guys, you have to forgive me because I have given you the gift of Bucky and Natasha swing dancing. 
> 
> You're welcome.


	4. James (Retain that dear perfection which he owes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End is nigh. Loose ends are tied up. Bucky tries to teach Steve to Dance.

It's been a long time since The Winter Soldier went looking for answers from a Hydra Agents with a weak stomach.

Bucky's on his third SHIELD supplied living arrangement. This one is actually more like an apartment and features a full kitchen, living room area, bedroom and private bathroom. He's happy to have a little bit more control over his own life, even if he understands why it's taken S.H.I.E.L.D. so long to really trust him.

 

Natasha's card games have grown to include Steve, and a grab bag of other friends and acquaintances who come and go as their own schedules (and SHIELD allow). Skye, who was on the team that Bucky first infiltrated, is a frequent player and James has had to smile and nod through more than one gushing conversation about how she gets to play cards with _the_  Bucky Barnes. It's a bit like those conversations he had when he first met Coulson and (though he hadn't understood much of what Couslon was saying at the time) in retrospect it's funny how star stuck the new S.H.I.E.L.D. director had been. 

Sam comes around sometimes too, and constantly accuses both Bucky and Natasha of cheating (though he never lets that stop him from going all in on a round).

 

Tony Stark (who was apparently a big deal) had stopped by only once and had been expelled and banned for live following a childish tantrum sparked by Steve sharking him at poker and taking all the money in the billionaire's wallet plus his apparently very expensive.

 

Bucky's dart board now uses real darts, and he likes to leave deep sea documentaries on when he's alone in the apartment because he finds the British narrator 'soothing'.

 

James insists that Steve come over whenever he wants, but despite how obvious it is that they're both trying there's a strain in his relationship with Steve that just isn't there with his other friends.

 

Natasha has told Steve he needs to accept that Bucky has changed and be glad that the man is still so eager to have him in his life.

 

Steve wants to be glad but it's hard because Bucky still doesn't remember much from before his second trip to Zola's table and, despite his best efforts, almost nothing substantial from before his first one as really stuck either.

 

Bucky constantly tells Steve it doesn't matter, that he remembers caring about Steve and the decision here and now to be friends with him again.

 

Which  would be fine except Bucky still sometimes points his finger in Steve face and yells “NO! You know how I feel about that face! Go watch the penguins until you feel better!”

 

Steve's one of the only people who calls him Bucky anymore. Natasha refers to him almost exclusively as Yasha, and Steve would like to be able to say that he's not jealous of the easy affection and understanding that seems to have grown between his two closest friends.

 

He knows that he has no right to be jealous. Bucky makes more room for him in his life than anyone else. If Steve doesn't come over for longer than two days at a time he'll start getting worried phone calls from Bucky and if he doesn't call for more than a week he starts getting angry phone calls from everyone else (Natasha once threatened to steal the declaration of independence and burn it on his lawn if he didn't return Bucky's calls).

 

He walks in unannounced one night to find Natasha and Bucky working on what looks like a pretty insane and elaborate dance routine.

 

“Swing Dancing!” Bucky declares happily and he tosses Natasha over his shoulder and then down between his legs before bouncing her back up onto her feet. “They came up with all sorts of new moves after the war!!” He pauses the music and beckons Steve over. “C'mon, Spider and I will show you the steps. All this throwing and catching will be just up your alley I bet!”

 

Steve shakes his head. “Nah, Bucky, I don't dance.”

 

Natasha gets that wicked look in her eye with which Steve has become all too familiar in the last couple of years and Bucky just grins that stupid grin. The one that used to convince Steve that an uncomfortable double dates would be just the thing to cheer him up.

 

They both hold out their hands and pout dramatically.

 

“Nat tells me you popped your cherry Steve. So I don't got to worry about you dying a virgin. But, so help me God, you will learn to dance before you kick the bucket.” Bucky threatens.

 

Steve blushes but he takes Bucky's hand.

 

Bucky grins the million dollar grin that he knows Steve had missed so much.He knows that things may never be as good between him and Steve as they seem to have been in the little flashes of memory he has of when they were both just a couple of kids from Brooklyn.

 

But, well, neither of them are kids anymore. They both grew up in the most awful ways a man could but, they aren't _dead_. Bucky is an amnesiac ex-assasin. Steve's a national icon who's got a bad habit of making the self sacrifice play. They're both pretty messed up. But while there's life there's hope.

 

They can't ever regain what they've lost but they can build something new with the jitterbug and David Attenborough and cheating at poker and Chinese take out and those side long glances where they both check that whatever they're saying or doing isn't upsetting the other.

 

Bucky hopes that Steve can understand that soon. He may not remember their old life but they've started making a new one. Bucky accepts that he may never really remember the years he's lost. But, he's filled in the gaps with stories and mission reports and jerky old news reels and that's enough for now.

 

So, Jame Buchanan Barnes, known to his enemies as “The Winter Soldier” and to his friends as “Yasha”, “Bucky” and occasionally “The one armed Bandit” is best friends with Stephen Grant Rogers, who spends some of his time in a spangly outfit that Bucky has always thought was a bit silly and he is going to teach the lead footed lug how to do the box step even if it kills both of them.

 

For now. he's decided _that_ is what matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to anyone who has followed this story the last few days. I'm sort of ridiculously proud of it (even if I just couldn't quite get the ending right). 
> 
> Also, to let you know I'm taking a break from Winter Soldier fics, and am working on some unfinished things is different fandoms (including but not limited to BBC's Musketeers, Spartacus and some old Thor stuff). Just in case anyone's wondering where I'm going to be disappearing off to for a while and is interested in that sort of thing.


End file.
